The honest innkeeper wiped a tear from his cheek as he concluded, and a pause of some moments ensued, when the Captain, addressing Mr. Talton, said—"What a character, Talton, is that of Sir Horace! My own misfortunes sink in the comparison with these unhappy people's: and I think you will allow, even Sir Henry is entitled to a portion of your pity."

"He deserves it, indeed, Sir," said Jarvis. "Soon after I settled in this inn, he stopped here on his way to my ladies; and I declare I scarcely knew him, he looked so pale and unhappy. When I told him Miss Mary was married, he started from his seat in an agony, and, wringing my hand, said, 'Yes, Jarvis, and I am married! I am married,' he repeated, 'and to one—.' He struck his forehead—walked about in great agitation, and at last, throwing himself into a chair, covered his face, and sighed to that degree, my heart ached to hear him. Poor gentleman! I never saw him after that day. Had his father possessed a heart like my old master's, they might all have been happy: but many a dark deed has Sir Horace to answer for, beside those I have related: there were his wife and daughter disappeared in a very strange manner."

At this moment Frederick entered. Jarvis, being summoned to another part of the house, made his humble bow, and left the room; and the Captain, addressing his nephew, asked if he had accompanied the Lieutenant and Miss Booyers to their habitation?

"I did, my dear Sir," answered Frederick; "and have beheld a scene equally distressing, I think, as the one you witnessed in the church-yard. I supported the lovely Ellen to her residence, and would then have taken my leave, but the Lieutenant, who I afterwards found was her uncle, entreated me to walk into the house. 'It is the abode of sorrow,' he added, 'but not of ingratitude; and never will Lieutenant Booyers turn the compassionate stranger from his gate.'

"I was easily prevailed on to enter, when the Lieutenant, opening the door of an inner room, presented to my view a lady and a youth in deep mourning. They did not perceive our entrance. The silent tear was trickling down the face of the youth; but his mother, for such she proved, wrung her hands, and, in a voice broken by sobs, exclaimed—'Oh, my Henry, to what distress has thy death reduced us!' She fell on the neck of her son, when the lovely Ellen hastening to her, with accents of the mildest pity, entreated she would be composed.

"'I could, Ellen,' answered the Lady, 'were I the only sufferer; but, alas! a prison awaits us; and my child—my Edward, what must then become of you?'

"'Fear not for me, my dear mother,' answered her son, with rising spirit. 'I will follow the steps of my brave father, and if I fall, I cannot die more nobly than in the cause of my country!' His voice, his manners, were all St. Ledger's.—By Heavens, I could have loved him as a brother!

"His mother pressed him to her bosom, but tears choked her utterance. The Lieutenant regarded her with a look of commiseration, which seemed, for the moment, to banish all thoughts of his own affliction. 'Yield not thus to despondency,' he cried, 'my worthy friend; the God whose power can calm the turbulence of the storm, and raise the sinking mariner, will never desert thee or thy offspring.'

"She answered but with her tears, when a beautiful girl, whose countenance, like the rest, bore marks of the deepest grief, entered, and in a voice, I thought, of alarm, entreated her assistance in an adjoining room.

"She instantly complied, and retired, followed by her son and the lovely Ellen.

"'Child of misfortune,' sighed the Lieutenant, 'may you one day experience happiness, proportionate to the sorrow you now endure.'

"Then, addressing me, he thanked me, in elegant terms, for the assistance I had afforded his niece: her name revived the anguish of his own breast, and, perceiving me interested by what I had beheld, he gave me the outlines of his life, a life marked, indeed, by misfortune! I thanked him for the confidence he had reposed in me, and, apologizing for the freedom of the offer, entreated to know if it were in my power, or that of my uncle, to render any assistance to the lady I had seen.

"The Lieutenant shook his head.—It was not, he said.—'Pecuniary distresses,' he continued, 'are but the secondary causes of her affliction. Early in life she lost a beloved husband, and for many years experienced the keenest unhappiness: at last Heaven sent a friend, who promised to redress the injuries she had suffered; but it was not to be: death has bereaved her of her protector; and for him it is she grieves, independently of the misery which awaits her.'

"Delicacy forbade my urging any farther, and, unwilling to intrude, I took a reluctant leave.—But, surely, my dear uncle, something may be done; theirs is not a common distress: they need a friend, and, had I the wealth of the universe—"

Frederick was interrupted by his uncle's servant, who rushed into the room with looks of the wildest delight, exclaiming—"She is found—she is found, your Honour! My Lady is now in the village!"

The Captain's countenance indicated displeasure. "Am I never to be free from the persecution of this woman?" he cried. "Order my horses; I will be gone immediately!"

"What, Sir!" said James, surprised and dejected: "not see my Lady, now you have found her?"

"Found her—found whom?" asked the Captain hastily.

"My honoured Lady, Sir; Madam Crawton, who lived at Brighthelmstone."

"My Ellenor here!" exclaimed the Captain, starting from his seat, every feature instantly illumined with joy.—"O God of Heaven! tell me where she is, this instant!"

"At the house, your Honour, where Mr. Frederick went with the gentleman and lady: I saw Madam Crawton as she came out of the parlour. I could not at the moment be certain it was her; but, willing to satisfy myself, I returned as soon as my young master reached the inn, and saw Mrs. Susan putting some parcels into a carriage. I remembered Mrs. Susan perfectly well; and at that moment my Lady came to the door. I was then convinced, and hastened back to acquaint your Honour."

The Captain could scarcely retain patience till James concluded; when, quick as lightning, he darted out of the room, followed by his nephew and Mr. Talton, and in a few minutes reached the residence of Lieutenant Booyers.

With a beating heart he raised the knocker; but all remained silent: no ready footstep answered to the summons. Again he knocked—when a peasant slowly advanced from the back of the garden, and, with a surly voice, demanded their business?

"Is Mrs. Crawton, or Lieutenant Booyers, at home?" asked the Captain.

"They are not," answered the man. "They have left the village."

"Left the village!" faltered the Captain.

"Yes," replied the man. "So, for once you have missed your aim."

"Missed indeed!" he cried. "But say—where are they gone?—Tell me, I conjure you."

"I will perish first," answered the man. "I know your business too well!"

"It is impossible," said the Captain, "you should know my business."

"Is not your name Talton!" interrupted the man.

"My name is," answered Mr. Talton. "But I cannot conceive what concern that has with the lady in question."

"A great deal," said the man. "So, once more I tell you, you have missed your aim. My lady will not go to prison this time!"

"God forbid she should," exclaimed the Captain. "Yet tell me, I entreat you—."

But the peasant disregarded his entreaties, and, again repeating his observation, pursued his way to his own home. The disappointment was too severe for the Captain to support with his wonted firmness: he sunk on the shoulder of his nephew, whose astonishment could only be equalled by his concern, at finding the house so suddenly deserted: he begged his uncle (who would have followed the peasant) to return to the inn, declaring he would himself go after him, and, either by money or threats, extort from him what he knew concerning Mrs. Crawton. The Captain complied, and, accompanied by Mr. Talton, retraced his steps to the inn, where he ordered the horses to be immediately saddled.

Jarvis (who had been informed by James, of what he knew concerning the Captain and the unfortunate Ellenor) observing the agitation of his guest, begged to know if any thing disagreeable had happened? Mr. Talton satisfied his curiosity, so far as saying, the Lieutenant and his friends, with whom they had particular business, had left the village, and at the same time asked if he knew any thing respecting Mrs. Crawton?

"There were a Mrs. Crawton and another lady, your Honour," answered Jarvis, "came here just before Miss Hannah died; but I cannot say I ever saw either of them. The young folks, (for one has a son, and the other a daughter) I have frequently seen. As for the Lieutenant leaving the village, the man must be mistaken, though he may be accompanying the ladies to their own habitation: however, if it be that which concerns your Honours, I will be bound to gain you intelligence to what part of the country they are gone, in the space of an hour."

The Captain thankfully accepted the offer, and impatiently waited the return of Frederick, who, with a dejected countenance, soon entered the room.

"I have not been able to succeed, my dear Sir," he cried; "the man is sworn to secrecy; and all I have been able to learn from him, is—they have fled, to avoid Mr. Talton and a jail."

"Avoid me!" exclaimed Mr. Talton, with surprise. "There is some mystery in this, which I cannot develope. From the time I first left England, till this evening, I have never heard of Mrs. Crawton; and to Lieutenant Booyers I am a perfect stranger."

"My Ellenor flying, and from fear of a prison!" cried the Captain. "To what distress may she not be reduced! Would that Jarvis was returned! the torments I endure are insupportable!"

Jarvis soon after re-entered—"I have gained but little information, your Honour," he began, "and that I believe not strictly true. The Lieutenant has certainly left the village. It was the appearance of you, Sir, (to Mr. Talton) it seems, which has driven them so abruptly from their home. They have taken the road to Chepstow; but whether they propose staying there, is not known."

"That information is sufficient," said the Captain. "I will instantly follow them. Let me but recover Ellenor and my son—it is all I ask of Heaven!"

Jarvis, who was liberally rewarded for his trouble, procured them a guide, and they immediately directed their course toward Chepstow. But the Captain was doomed to experience disappointment; no such carriage or persons as he described had been seen; and he could only suppose Jarvis had been misinformed, or that they had pursued their way farther into the country. Indulging this last idea, he determined to continue the pursuit; but every effort proved ineffectual to discover the lost Ellenor; and, to add to his distress, he received an express to return on board, the fleet being ready to sail.

Reluctantly he obeyed, and, on reaching Weymouth, was met by Mrs. Howard, who with increasing malignancy endeavoured to revenge herself for the temporary respite he had enjoyed. Mr. Talton accompanied the Captain on board, where, promising to use every endeavour during his absence from England to discover Ellenor, he bade him adieu, and, returning on shore, proceeded to Bath, to renew his addresses to Lady Corbet.

No particular occurrence marked the voyage: the name of St. Ledger was still mentioned with regret by the crew, and dwelt on with a painful delight by Frederick and his uncle; who passed his hours in painful retrospects, and conjectures for the present state of his Ellenor, enlivened only by the praises the friendly Frederick bestowed on the person and interesting manners of his son, so greatly resembling those of the deceased Sir Henry.